


a part of me is sad, but a part of me is having such a good time

by orange_yarn



Series: all the stories that we (could have) told [8]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Gen, High School AU, Soccer, Waffle House
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-21
Updated: 2014-06-21
Packaged: 2018-02-05 13:54:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1820731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orange_yarn/pseuds/orange_yarn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"They'll cut your club," Wells reminds you. "There's no one else left to pair up with."</p><p>You don't get a chance to try and respond to that, because your car door swings open and Jasper sticks his head out.</p><p>"Don't mind me," he says, waving you on, and twisting himself so his feet dangle out of the car. "It's only a million degrees in here, I probably won't suffocate."</p><p>(The 100 High School AU, Part 8.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	a part of me is sad, but a part of me is having such a good time

**Author's Note:**

> I guess I should start by saying I'm sorry about the long wait. As some of you maybe know, I'm a fourth grade teacher in the real world, and the end of the school year is a crazy time for teachers, too. We just got out on summer break a week ago, and I've needed that long to decompress, but now I'm back with tons of fic!
> 
> So, here is another Clarke POV, and to make up for the wait, and also because there were a LOT of things that I wanted to happen in this chapter, it is 5 and half thousand words long. It's also a direct follow-up to part 7.
> 
> Title is from "Victoria" by Jukebox the Ghost.

-+-

 

"Fair warning," Jasper says, right on your heels as you cut through rows of parked cars, "I have some friends coming over tonight."

It's Wednesday afternoon, and the dismissal bell rang six minutes ago, which means you have approximately three minutes before the parking lot becomes gridlocked, and you're stuck in traffic with all the other students desperate to flee school property. Normally you're one of the first people here, and you get a spot right up front, but you had to take Jasper to a doctor's appointment early this morning. You made it in time for first period, but you missed the 7:15 student government meeting, and you ended up parked in the very back of the lot.

"Friends?" you echo, not even turning back towards Jasper. You've been counting the rows as you pass, and you know you're finally getting close. The one road out of the parking lot is already starting to back up, so you quicken your pace. "You mean Monty?"

"Monty, yeah," he says, and then he pauses before he adds, "and also some...other people," and that is just about evasive enough that you would stop, and actually pay attention to whatever he's talking about, except you've finally found your car, and that's great. What's not so great is the silver Honda parked next to it, and its owner, leaning up against the hood like he was waiting for you. And seeing as Wells isn't normally the loitering type, it's a safe bet he was.

"Clarke," he says when he sees you, taking a step forward, motions hurried like maybe he thinks if he's quick enough he can speak his piece before you get in your car and run him over. You resist the temptation, just barely. Instead you press your lips into a thin line, and shake your head, rage thrumming in your veins, because you are getting sick of repeating yourself, and he still isn't backing off. He would have been here early for the meeting, which means he found the time to drive around the lot, looking for your car, and waited there, which is so infuriating that you might actually run him over after all.

You've stopped in your tracks but Jasper keeps waking until he's right at your side. He waves and says, "Hey, Wells," but then you turn the full force of your glare on him, and he follows it up with, "I'm just gonna wait in the car," and scurries to let himself in as soon as you click the key fab to unlock it. You wait until his door slams shut before you even say a word.

"What do you want?" you ask Wells, crossing your arms and making absolutely no move to close the few feet of distance between the two of you. Wells swallows, and gets this look on his face like whatever he's up to, he's starting to regret it, but he's going to give it a go anyway. He's got you here, he might as well get it over with.

"I've been trying to call you," he starts, which gets you bristling right off the bat, because here you are, repeating yourself again.

"I told you _not_ to call me," you remind him, your tone icy, and something twisting in your chest, because there is a part of you that hates what your relationship has devolved into, that misses how easy things were between you, before this summer. But Wells seems determined to hammer every last nail in that coffin, because he is ignoring every boundary you put in place and it's just too much. "I told you not to _talk_ to me, but here you are, waiting by my car." You know you're raising your voice, and also that you don't care. "I'd threaten to call the cops if I didn't already know your dad would just convince them you were _accidentally_ stalking me."

You glance over at Jasper, sitting in the passenger's seat with the windows rolled up, playing around on his phone and graciously pretending he can't hear everything you and Wells are saying.

Wells looks pained, but he doesn't argue with you, which is strangely and terribly disappointing. "Look, I'm not here to talk about that. I know you hate me for what happened. I get it." He shrugs, and looks away for just a minute, frowning. "I just need to tell you one thing, and then I'll leave you alone."

You blink, because Wells just made it through an entire sentence without begging you for forgiveness. You don't actually know how to respond, except to say, "What is it?"

"They're cutting funding for half the clubs," he tells you, and you pause again, trying to process why, exactly, Wells has been camping out by your car to tell you this. Then, it clicks.

"No way," you answer, shaking your head, because on the very long list of unfortunate things that have happened these past few months, this is oddly painful. "The Eco club?"

Back in your freshman year, you'd joined about a half-dozen after school clubs, in an effort to "be involved." In the years since you've had to drop nearly all of them, in order to stay ahead on your classwork, but you've stuck with the Eco club. When you joined it was mostly a disaster -- a handful of upperclassman hanging posters that said REDUCE, REUSE, RECYCLE in varying shades of green, and not even on recycled paper. By sophomore year you were club president, and you had organized a school-wide recycling drive, and an annual river cleanup. Eco club was going places, or so you'd thought.

"They can't cut the Eco club," you argue. "You realize most of the clubs just run the concession stand at lunch for their community service hours? We actually _do things_."

"Nobody even showed up to your callout meeting," Wells points out.

You aren't sure how he knows about that, but you roll your eyes anyway, because that's irrelevant. It was also very disappointing, but you're not about to tell him that. You were expecting a great turnout. You'd even brought snacks. But on Monday you'd sat in stony silence for forty-five minutes in the science lab, alternating between watching the door, and watching Jasper devour an entire package of cupcakes. It was awful.

"Fine," you say a long moment later. Suddenly you want very much to be in your car, driving away, because you don't want Wells to see how upset you are over something as inconsequential as the Eco club. "Whatever. I guess the Lacrosse team can finally afford new jerseys. Thanks for telling me."

You take two steps towards your car before Wells says, "No, Clarke, wait, that's not all," and you stop, despite your better judgement. You ought to get in your car and drive away, because you've got a feeling that this conversation is only going downhill -- but you stay, and you listen.  "They're cutting funding, unless you can find another club to pair up with. To share the budget, or something."

It's like a weight lifts off your shoulders. "So, all we have to do is pair up with another club?" you ask, clarifying. That's not so bad after all. You've got connections, there has to be somebody else you can work with.

"Or with a team," Wells says slowly, not quite looking at you, and your blood runs cold.

"What did you do?" you ask, voice low, but you don't even need him to answer, you've got it figured out and you are furious.

"All the other clubs were all already pairing up," he says, risking eye contact. "I know how much you care about your club, so I sort of just...paired you up with the soccer team?"

You rub at your temples and close your eyes because you don't even want to look at him right now. "Can you undo it?"

"They'll cut your club," Wells reminds you. "There's no one else left to pair up with."

You don't get a chance to try and respond to that, because your car door swings open and Jasper sticks his head out.

"Don't mind me," he says, waving you on, and twisting himself so his feet dangle out of the car. "It's only a million degrees in here, I probably won't suffocate."

"I need to go," you tell Wells, shaking your head and hoping the headache blooming behind your eyes will just go away on its own, but figuring you won't actually be that lucky. "Can we just figure this out later?"

"Yeah, of course," Wells says, looking borderline hopeful, and you make a mental note to squash that, and fast. "Whatever you want."

"Don't call me," you remind him, suddenly fierce, and he nods. You back away and let yourself into your car without saying another word, turning the key in the ignition and rolling the windows down, because it actually is stifling in here.

Jasper pulls himself back inside the car and shuts his door. "You know, when people leave their dogs in the car they at least crack a window. Just saying."

"Let's just not talk," you tell him, fingers tightening on the steering wheel as Wells climbs into his own car, and pulls away. You almost can't tell how badly you're shaking. You don't know if it's because you're angry or because you're tired of fighting with Wells, or because now you're going to be stuck in traffic for the next eternity. Whatever the reason, you feel terrible. "Total silence, alright?

"Clarke." Jasper sighs. "He was just trying to help."

If it was someone other than Jasper in the car with you right now, you'd ignore them, or argue, but he knows you better than just about anyone, so instead you say, "I know."

 

-+-

 

You've packed enough drama into your afternoon, and you aren't actually in the mood to talk to anybody, so as soon as you're home you lock yourself in your room. You're planning on getting a lot of work done, but you pretty much just mess around on the internet and waste a couple of hours doing absolutely nothing, which only makes you feel worse.

Your parents are at work so the house is mostly quiet, except for the distant sound of video game explosions coming from Jasper's room. He doesn't come to check on you, but he does post a hedgehog video to your Facebook wall, you guess in an attempt to cheer you up. It sort of works -- you forget about your burning hatefire for about three minutes, but then you're back to dwelling on all of the people you're angry at. The school faculty, for cutting your club, the lacrosse team, for actually being good at a sport and deserving more money. Wells, for not leaving you alone, and mostly yourself, for almost wishing you could ever forgive him.

You probably would have stayed in your room all night, except eventually you realize that the video game noises have stopped. You remember that Jasper was trying to tell you something -- or trying _not_ to tell you something, before you ran into Wells. Something about friends coming over, and not just Monty? You're curious, and also really hungry, so you wander out of your seclusion and into the upstairs hallway.

Jasper's door is open and his room is dark, and there are voices, floating up from the living room, including a _girl's_ voice. How Jasper convinced an actual, human girl to come over to your house, you have no idea, but you are going to find out.

You move down the stairs quietly, avoiding the creaky step three from the bottom, not because you're trying to snoop but for some other reason, probably. You don't turn on the light at the bottom of the stairs, or the one in the front hallway, because that would distract Jasper and his friends from whatever potentially important thing they're doing, and also would give you away.

You peer around the corner and there's Jasper, in the living room with Monty, and _Octavia Blake_. Monty is on the floor, sitting on his knees, with his laptop open on the coffee table, Octavia is cross-legged on the couch with a three-ring binder, and Jasper's sprawled out on the rug, flipping through his chemistry textbook. The TV isn't on, and it looks like they're actually focused, so you backtrack, cutting through the den and the back hallway to get to the kitchen, not wanting to bother Jasper and his friends when they at least look like they're studying, but mostly not wanting them to know that you were kind of spying on them just now.

Jasper's cracking a joke about the chemistry teacher, getting an amused snort from Monty and an actual laugh from Octavia, and you aren't sure how you feel about that, so you flick on the kitchen light. There's only a half wall separating the kitchen and the living room, so you rifle around in the cabinet for a glass and watch out of the corner of your eye as Jasper notices you and frowns.

"Hey, Clarke," he says, eyeing you warily. "I thought you'd taken an eternal vow of solitude, or something? Why are you down here?"

"I got hungry," you say, glancing over at Monty and Octavia. "What're you guys up to?"

"Studying for a really important chemistry test," Jasper answers quickly, looking at you like he really hopes you'll go away. "If we don't focus we will _totally_ fail," he adds, which is probably one of the most ridiculous things he's ever said -- chemistry is the only class Jasper _doesn't_ have to study for, his brain is just sort of wired for it, like his dad. He helped _you_ study for tests when you took the class two years ago.

You're about to point this out when Jasper pushes himself to sit up and says, "I just remembered, Monty needs to talk to you about something." He sounds desperate, and Octavia looks confused.

Monty shrugs and closes his laptop. "Sure." He comes to join you in the kitchen, and Jasper moves to sit by Octavia on the couch. Several pieces click into place. You grab Monty by the arm and all but drag him around the corner into the den.

"Oh my god," you hiss, the second you're out of Jasper's earshot. "Does he have you running interference so he can make a move on Octavia? Is that what's happening right now?"

"He thought you might stay upstairs until she was gone," Monty offers. "But yeah, I'm supposed to distract you."

"Why do I need to be distracted?" you ask, and Monty raises his eyebrows. "He thinks I'll meddle?" You should be offended by that. You probably are.

"You were spying on us, like, three minutes ago," Monty points out mildly.

"That was -- I'm just trying to look out for him," you argue. You don't need to tell Monty that pursuing Octavia is going to lead to a run-in with Bellamy, and the last one put Jasper in the hospital. Not to mention, Octavia seems like something of a free spirit. You've got a feeling that if anyone's heart is getting broken in this scenario, it won't be hers. "I don't want him to get hurt."

Monty drops down into the office chair. "I get it," he says, spinning just a little bit, side to side. "I worry about him, too. But we have to let him learn from his mistakes."

You frown. "Jasper makes a _lot_ of mistakes."

"That's true," Monty says, and then the doorbell rings before he can say anything else. The den's connected to the foyer, so you make it to the front door before Jasper could probably make it off the couch.

You should have seen this coming -- you know exactly who Octavia is, and who her brother is, and you know she doesn't drive, and would need a ride home. You also know that the universe apparently has it out for you today. Still, it's something of a surprise when you open your door and find Bellamy Blake standing on your front porch.

If you're surprised to find him standing there, then Bellamy is downright shocked to see you open the door. His eyes go wide for a split second, long enough for you to realize that he didn't know who's front doorbell he was ringing. He gets it together in an instant, regaining composure and saying, "Clarke."

"Bellamy," you answer cooly. Talking to Wells was one thing -- at least the two of you used to be close. You never cared for Bellamy, not even before everything that happened this summer. "You're here for Octavia?"

"She texted me the address," he says, and if you weren't talking to Bellamy Blake you would almost think he sounded apologetic.

As if on cue, Octavia calls down the front hall, "Just a minute, Bell."

You take a step back, ready to let the door fall closed, because you are not standing next to Bellamy Blake any longer than absolutely necessary.

"Clarke, wait," Bellamy says, but you shake your head and cut him off.

"I think you should wait in the car next time," you tell him, and the unreadable expression on his face shifts to unmistakable anger.

"Look, about the party," he says, and you wish he would stop talking, because you already know he's about to make things worse. "Nobody meant for that to happen. We were just having fun."

You would like very much to slam the door in his face, but instead you say, "I hope that wasn't supposed to be an apology."

"I'm not--" Bellamy huffs out something like a sigh, and tugs his fingers through his hair. "I don't know what you want me to say, Clarke. It was an _accident_."

"Oh, yeah, you were accidentally throwing people off of balconies. That makes perfect sense." Suddenly slamming the door doesn't sound satisfying enough, but slapping him in the face sounds very appealing. "I need you to leave."

"Believe me, I can't wait to go," Bellamy replies, and luckily for the both of you, Octavia chooses that moment to all but flounce down the hallway. You take a step back to let her through the front door, and almost bump into Jasper, who's followed Octavia down the hall.

"Sorry, just had to get my stuff," she tells Bellamy, then she turns back to Jasper and says, "Thanks for having me over. We should do this again."

"Definitely," Jasper says, and if you weren't so worked up you'd laugh at the way his voice cracks. Octavia smiles wide, but Bellamy grumbles something that sounds like, "We'll see about that," and by then you've slammed the door shut.

"Next time you're studying at the library," you inform Jasper, who has this goofy look on his face like this was the actual best night of his life. "Or Starbucks, or Panera Bread, or literally anywhere other than our house, because I do not want to see _Bellamy Blake_ on our porch ever again. Are you even listening to me right now?"

"She laughed at my joke," Jasper says dreamily, and you roll your eyes so hard it makes you dizzy.

"This is gonna end badly," Monty observes, idly spinning in the office chair, and you think he's probably right.

 

-+-

 

Jasper's love-stuck haze lasts all the way through Thursday, but by Friday afternoon he's mostly snapped out of it. You think he's toning it down because he wants a ride to the Friday night soccer game, and he knows he's not allowed in your car as long as he's waxing poetic about Octavia Blake. You almost didn't go anyway, just because you have had enough of these guys over the past few days to last quite a while, and it would be nice to spend your Friday evening doing literally anything other than watching the Rocketeers take yet another beating.

You end up glad that you came, because for once, your home team isn't losing. Technically it's tied, 0-0, but that's the best they've done all season by far, _and_ they've had possession most of the game. There are only two minutes left on the clock, and you are embarrassingly excited that they just might not lose this game.

"I have a question," Jasper says, not taking his eyes off the field. Once again, it's only the two of you in the stands, but for the first time this season everyone else is missing out.

"I swear, if you ask me what rhymes with Octavia _one more time_ \--" you warn him, but Jasper laughs and shakes his head. "Fine, what then?"

"If our team wins," he says, nodding out at the field, where Wells is actually managing to defend their half, for probably the first time ever, "Can we go to Waffle House with Monty afterwards?"

You know that the team hits up the local Waffle House after every game -- Finn mentioned it, when the two of you were working on your lit project at the library last weekend, and Monty's been inviting you, but you've politely declined every time. Honestly you have no idea why you would want to spend an evening eating breakfast food with a bunch of guys that you can't even stand.

"They're not gonna win," you argue, trying to be realistic. You're shocked that things are going as well as they are. "Let's just be happy with the tie."

"You didn't answer my question," Jasper points out. On the field, Atom is racing towards the ball, and looks like he might actually beat the opposing player to it.

"Okay, sure," you say, because why not. "If they win, which they won't, then we can go to Waffle House. Are you happy?"

Jasper doesn't get to answer, because the most extraordinary thing happens down on the field. Atom reaches the ball, sending it up to Finn a split second before the other team can get to him. Finn dribbles past three players before sending the ball from midfield all the way up to Murphy, in the opposing team's left corner. Murphy's too far over to make a shot, and he's got two defenders closing in on him, so he crosses it to Monty, who's speeding towards the goal. Monty doesn't even stop the ball, he just kicks it with his right foot, sending it sailing up, just past the goalie's outstretched fingertips, and into the back corner of the net.

The referee blows his whistle to end the game, but you hardly hear it because you and Jasper have both leapt to your feet, and he's cheering loud enough that your eardrums might possibly burst, but you don't actually care because you're cheering, too.

"Did you see that?" Jasper asks jumping up and down on the stands as the team just about swarms Monty. "That was the most beautiful thing I've ever seen!" he declares, and then dissolves back into incoherent shouting.

You feel warm, and there's this tingling, in your fingertips, and you don't even like these guys, but you're stupidly excited you are that they finally won a game. You're almost expecting the referee to blow his whistle again, and say it didn't count, or something, but there are the teams, walking in lines to shake hands, and your team actually looks _happy_.

Jasper finally stops jumping, and starts clapping instead as the team heads inside. "I can't believe they won," you say, but you can feel yourself smiling.

"I can't believe we're going to Waffle House," Jasper shoots back, and if you weren't in such a good mood you'd probably push him down the bleachers.

Your euphoria lasts the entire car ride -- Jasper keeps up the cheering and chanting the _entire time_ \-- and all the way to a booth in the far back corner of the Waffle House. You beat the team there, so you had your pick of seating, and Jasper's finally quieted down, sitting across from you, but he's too amped up to sit still. He fidgets with the napkin dispenser and the ketchup bottle and you're about to ask the waitress if they have any of the kids menus with the crayon boxes when the team finally starts showing up. They get there in groups of two and three and four, crammed into each other's cars.

Monty shows up in the second group, and Jasper starts clapping again the second the front door jangles. You'd probably tell Jasper to knock it off, but you're just as excited as he is, you're just not a complete doofus about it.

"Man of the match," Jasper says, still clapping as Monty heads for your booth, dropping in to sit next to his best friend. "Tell me," Jasper says, clapping Monty on the shoulder, "I gotta know. How does it feel to be an actual hero?"

"It feels pretty awesome," Monty says with a grin.

"This guy." Jasper ruffles Monty's hair, and Monty only sort of ducks out of the way. "This guy's the best. I'm gonna get his face tattooed on my face. What do you think, Clarke? Best idea ever?"

"Uhm, no," you say, and you laugh, and you're happy for maybe five more seconds, because that's when the last two groups filter in to the restaurant. You see Wells see you, and more importantly, the empty spot right beside you in the booth. The strange thrill of victory evaporates as you watch him weigh his options, and make the wrong choice, stepping towards your booth. You're so busy coming up with something terrible to say that will get him to sit somewhere else, that you don't even realize that someone else has beaten him to your table.

"Is this seat taken?" a voice asks, and you glance up to see Finn Collins standing by your booth. You have never been so glad to see him, or maybe even anyone, in your entire life.

"I don't think so," Jasper starts to say, but you've already grabbed Finn by the wrist and tugged him down to sit beside you. "I mean, obviously not," Jasper amends, and then launches right back into his play-by-play description of Monty's goal, and you watch as Wells backtracks, taking a seat up at the counter instead, between Connor and Sterling, and not making eye contact with you.

"Sorry for that," you tell Finn, suddenly feeling sort of embarrassed about manhandling him into your booth, but mostly just glad that Wells can't try and talk to you. At some point you'll get with him to figure out the whole club fiasco, but not tonight. You are in too good of a mood to deal with people you don't like.

Speaking of, the door jingles one last time, and Bellamy comes in, with Octavia on his heels. He must have gone home and picked her up, because she wasn't at the game. Jasper doesn't even notice, he's so wrapped up in his discussion with Monty, and you aren't about to point her out.

"No worries," Finn says, settling himself in more comfortably, and closing the very little bit of space between the two of you. "I'm just glad our number one fans finally made it to the after party."

"I'm pretty sure we're your only fans," you point out. You glance around the restaurant just to be sure, but other than you and Jasper, and now Octavia, it's only team members under the odd fluorescent lights -- and one elderly couple, who look increasing unhappy with the collection of rowdy teenage boys.

"Like I said." Finn smiles, wide and earnest, and a little bit of that euphoria swells back up in your chest. "Our number one fans."

You don't want to think about the way Finn is looking at you right now, so you clear you throat and dive for the menu instead, until the waitress comes by and takes your drink orders, and by then the conversation has moved on.

"You know, Finn," Jasper says, as soon as the waitress is gone, "Since Monty is a hero, and you kicked the ball to the guy that kicked it to Monty, that makes you, like, only two steps below a hero." He nods to himself, considering.  "I don't what that's called, or if there's even a name for that level, but you are it, and you should be very proud."

"Oh, yeah, so proud," Finn agrees, nodding solemnly, and you catch yourself laughing again, and you realize that this is the first time since this summer that you've felt so carelessly happy. You didn't know how much you missed feeling like this.

The waitress brings your drinks and takes your actual orders, and by the time she's gone again Jasper has burned up most of his energy, and is almost acting like a civilized person. He still does that same stupid thing with his straw, where he tears off the end and tries to blow the wrapper at you. You swat it out of the way, the same way you have at every restaurant since he was ten years old. You aren't actually sure what Finn's up to with his wrapper -- he's tearing it into tiny, perfect squares, and you don't think you want to ask why.

"Do you ever miss your old team?" Monty asks, unwrapping his straw like a normal human being. "What are they ranked this year? Third?"

"Second," Finn corrects. He doesn't look up from his work, making impossibly small folds in one of the squares. "I mean, winning all the time is great, I guess." He shrugs. "But you know, I didn't miss them tonight."

Jasper cheers at that, and several other team members join in, even though they probably have no idea what you're talking about. Boys.

"What are you making?" you finally ask, leaning in a little bit closer to try and see what, exactly, Finn is up to with his itty bitty squares. He's almost holding his breath, like he's afraid of blowing them away.

"This," he says, finishing one last fold and picking it up between his fingertips, "Is a very, very tiny paper crane."

"No way," Jasper says, and Monty asks, "Does it work?"

Instead of answering, Finn carefully pinches either wing with his fingers, and pulls, making the tiny head bob up and down.

"Wow," Jasper breathes, utterly fascinated. "That is the new most beautiful thing I've ever seen. I changed my mind, I'm getting _that_ tattooed on my face."

Monty and Jasper launch into a conversation about the merits of face tattoos, which you honestly want no part in -- you're all set to stare out your window at the billboard above the parking lot until your food shows up, but then Finn says, "Here," and you turn back to him. He's holding out the tiny paper crane. You turn your hand, and he settles it into your open palm.

"Thanks," you say, cradling it carefully, admiring the eerily precise folds.

"Thank you," Finn returns. "For showing up to the games, and cheering us on."

"That's mostly just him," you admit, nodding towards Jasper, who has his hand up to his face, wiggling his fingers like tentacles, and you really don't want to know what that's about.

"But you had fun tonight, right?" Finn asks, like it's important to him, and you're not sure why it would be -- except you think that he wants to be your friend, and you think that maybe you wouldn't mind that so much.

"Yeah," you say, a moment later. "I really did."

"Good," Finn says, smiling again, wider than before, but thankfully the waitress shows up with your food before you have to try and name that swooping feeling in your stomach.

 

-+-

 

The team filters out the same way they came in -- high fives are exchanged, then small groups start piling into cars and heading home. Even Jasper ditches you while you wait in line at the register, claiming he'll meet you at the car.

You thought he wanted to say good-bye to Monty, but apparently you thought wrong, because when you walk out into the warm night air he's across the parking lot, over by a car you don't recognize, talking to Octavia. You can't tell what they're saying from here, but you don't like the way she's leaning in towards him.

"We'll have to keep an eye on them," Bellamy says, and you nearly jump out of your skin. You didn't even hear him come up behind you.

"You're right," you say, and then you instantly regret it, because Bellamy's already laughing.

"What do you know," he says, and you don't have to look at him to know that he's smirking. "Sounds like we actually agree on something."

You turn to scowl at him, but he's already moved on, calling for Octavia, and sending Jasper scurrying back in your direction. You get to your car at basically the same time, and he's got that stupid dreamy grin plastered back on his face.

"So, can this be a thing, now?" he asks, folding his arms on the top of your car and leaning in. "Waffle House after every game?"

"Just get in the car," you tell him, unlocking the doors and climbing inside. You're quiet the whole ride home, but Jasper never stops smiling.

 

-+-

 

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, I think it is very important to mention that you actually CAN make tiny paper cranes from squares torn off of straw wrappers. My sister (theseaisagreatplace on tumblr, some of you might know her), made one at Jimmy Johns, and it actually did work.
> 
> I feel like there were more things I wanted to say, but it is almost 2AM and I am very tired. Look for a Bellamy POV next, probably -- but keep in mind I have a couple of other things in the works. Mostly, the drabbles that I am crazy behind on, and several others AUs that I should not be writing. ;) 
> 
> I hope to be pretty active on here this summer. Thank you so much for reading!!! :D


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